


Only After Rain

by ArtemisBrown



Category: Fallout 3
Genre: Angst, F/M, Friendship/Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-06-22
Updated: 2012-06-22
Packaged: 2017-11-08 07:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,241
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/440667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArtemisBrown/pseuds/ArtemisBrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Butch finally gets his wish and leaves the Vault, but the wasteland isn't all he'd hoped. It's a good thing he found Julia. Or is it? Possibly eventual Butch/FemLW. Rated E for language, violence, and sexual content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A special thanks to my stalwart beta companion, S.Zix.

* * *

Ellen DeLoria clutched Butch by the side of his jumpsuit collar, pulling him back home with a drained, angry look on her face. She mumbled furiously under her breath, not even looking at her son, who was stumbling along behind her in an attempt to keep up.

He couldn't make out much of what she said, aside from a few curse words, and things like "so embarrassed" and "I didn't raise my son to..." He got the gist. It had been the same thing ever since he'd been in diapers.

Ellen slapped the "open" button on their front door and dragged Butch in behind her. She repeated the motion inside to close it, led the ten-year-old boy to the couch, and pushed him into a sitting position.

Butch watched her pace back and forth in front of him, until she finally stopped and spoke, hissing the words through gritted teeth, emphasizing them to a disturbing degree.

"What on _earth_ possessed you – to _hit_ _a_ _girl_ on _her_ _birthday_?"

He slowly focused his gaze somewhere else. "I dunno..." he mumbled.

Ellen's mouth flattened into a line. "I didn't send you to that party to get in a fight, I wanted you to make some friends!"

He looked down. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Butch DeLoria," she said forcefully, crossing her arms, "explain yourself. Now." He stayed silent, still staring at his feet. She waited for a moment, and sighed when she realized a response wasn't coming. "Just make sure to apologize to Julia. Tomorrow." Like that was going to happen. She sat on the couch next to him and rubbed her forehead. "God, I need a drink..."

Butch's jaw clenched as he remembered the comment a certain birthday girl had made less than an hour ago. "She..." Ellen's attention was brought back to her son. She watched him expectantly. "She said you drink all our ration coupons."

After a long silence, she leaned back. "That's not something you should worry about."

But it was something he worried about. He may have only been ten, but he wasn't stupid.

She could sense his discomfort. She scooted toward him and angled herself so she could see his face. "If it means so much, I'll cut back."

Her eyes were warm. They told him she was telling the truth. She probably even believed herself. Butch knew that whether she knew it or not, she was lying, but he was glad she said it anyway.

* * *

Butch's clothes were wrinkled and sloppy. One blue pant leg was crammed awkwardly into a boot, while the other hung down over his shoeless foot. His jumpsuit was unzipped almost all the way, revealing a sweat stain on his chest, and his Tunnel Snakes jacket lay crumpled on the floor. Even his hair, which he spent so much time getting perfect in the morning, was disheveled. It was far too early for someone to come around, yet there he stood in his doorway, staring grumpily at an awake, smug, and to his misfortune, very familiar face. "What do YOU want, nosebleed?"

The G.O.A.T. had happened several months ago, and everyone had been assigned jobs. Since then, Butch hadn't seen much of Julia. Without class to worry about, the younger crowd tended to stick around their friends or keep to themselves. Considering the mutual animosity, they hadn't exactly gone looking for one another.

"You here to get punched out again?"

Julia laughed falsely. "Oh, ho ho ho. Yeah, you sure showed me, didn't you?" She leaned on the door frame. "Only, the way I remember it, I punched you in the balls after that, and you screamed like a little girl."

Butch looked away moodily. "In your dreams." She laughed again. "What do you want anyway? You woke up the Butch-man, so you better have a good reason."

"I need a haircut."

Butch groaned and drooped his head. "You've gotta be shitting me. NOW?" He looked back up at her. To be fair, her hair was pretty bad, now that her old mohawk had grown out, and in a way, it was calling out to him to be fixed. It was bad enough to distract from her creepy, huge, brown eyes with long, fluttering eyelashes, which made her look like a damn deer. Other than that, he admitted mentally that she didn't look too terrible. She had a nice smile, he thought. Not that he saw it much.

He threw his head back, groaning. "FIIIINE." He stepped away from the door and glared at the ground, biting his tongue to keep himself from saying anything too rude to the 'customer' now making herself comfortable in his home. The Overseer had it out for him already. No point in making it worse. "Just keep it down, my mom's asleep." He closed the door and turned his gaze to her, pointing at a workstation he had set up. "And get your ass into that chair."

She sat happily, with a small bounce as he lumbered sleepily over to her. "So!" she started in a light conversational tone, "How's the whole hairdresser thing working out for you?"

"I'm not a damn hairdresser." He grabbed a bottle of water and started spraying it heavily on her hair, soaking it through. "I'm a barber."

"That's not what the G.O.A.T. said."

Butch rolled his eyes before getting to work untangling her hair. He decided to start at the roots, rather than the ends, tugging in what he hoped was a painful way through the knots. "So what'd you get then?"

He felt her wince and resisted the urge to grin. "I didn't take it."

He snorted. "Yeah, right..."

Julia closed her eyes and grinned in a self-satisfied sort of way. "I'm serious. I don't really have an official job, so my dad's just been teaching me what he knows at the clinic. But go ahead and think what you like."

"No – No way! How the hell did you get out of it?"

"Uhh, by _not_ being an asshole to Brotch maybe? You weren't exactly a model student."

He continued combing through her hair, which was now tangle free. "Great... So you get to do whatever you want, and I'm stuck doing your damn hair."

"Oh, don't be so bitter. It's not my fault you were assigned a girl's job."

He stopped combing and glared at the back of her head.

Julia leaned out of his grip and looked back at him. "Are you going to actually cut it? Today?"

Butch glowered down at her. He wanted to smack her. He grabbed her shoulders, sat her back in the chair, and reached for his scissors. "So what, you come here just to gloat?"

She let out a short laugh. "No. I _also_ came here to see how ol' Butchie is at his _cool_ new job."

That did it. He took a deep, slow breath, and exhaled through his nose. "Well," he began, chopping her hair off right at the hairline, "Guess you'll get what you came for." He trimmed the excess so it was about 2 inches long all over. "I think I have a special 'do in mind for you." He slammed the scissors down and grabbed his clippers.

Julia's eyes followed the device until it disappeared past her peripheral. "Uh, Butch-"

He shrugged and waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it, man, you'll love it." He flipped it on and a buzzing noise filled the room. Butch grinned. He worked from the bottom up, pulling away a little over half-way up each time. Clumps of hair fell around the chair. Julia was tense now.

Butch finally turned off the razor and set it down. He picked up his hair gel.

Nervously, Julia asked "So – another mohawk, right?"

He just laughed in response. After squeezing some gel into his palm and distributing it between his hands, he worked it into her hair, carefully spiking up the upper half. He grabbed a comb with his still sticky hands and combed the outside of it up to make it look a bit neater. He walked around front of her and lifted her chin to get a better look from the front.

Her expression made it even better.

"Looks good," he uttered proudly. He grabbed a damp towel and cleaned his hands, then handed her a mirror. Hand shaking, she took hold of it. She glared an ugly glare at the flat-top on her reflection.

He was grinning from ear to ear. "Yeah... Yeah! I call it the Wally Mack!"

Julia threw the mirror onto the desk. "YOU..." She seemed to hold her breath to keep from bludgeoning him to death. Her hands rose, and for a moment, Butch was pretty sure she was going to try to strangle him, but then she sighed and let them drop, looking defeated. "God, you're an asshole. I was hoping to finally get something more grown up looking, but – oh well..." She mussed it up a bit, to keep it from looking so much like a military cut. It looked more like a windswept bowl cut now, which was considerably better, but still certainly not what she had wanted.

"Yeah, well, that's what you get for messing with a Tunnel Snake!"

"Whatever, jackass. Not like I thought you'd do a good job anyway." She stuck her tongue out.

His nostrils flared, and his chest puffed up. No one insulted a Tunnel Snake. Not even when it was about some sissy job he had. "Get your tongue back in your mouth, or I'll rip it off your face!"

"I'd like to see you try." She gasped and dodged the swing at her head. "What the fuck, man?"

"You mess with the Tunnel Snakes, you get the fangs!"

Julia stared, her eyes shining with baffled amusement. Her face broke into a gleeful grin. She leaned against the wall and howled with laughter.

He glared furiously. "Shut up." She didn't seem to hear him. He stomped over to her and wrapped his hands around her neck. "Shut up!"

"Awk!" She gritted her teeth and struggled in his grasp.

Butch felt a fist connect with his stomach. "Urgh!" All the air left his lungs, and he hunched over in pain. He stumbled a few steps back. "You bitch!" he wheezed. He threw another punch, hitting her square in the breast.

"Oh fuck!" She clutched the spot he'd hit, her face screwed up in pain. "You hit me in the boob! What the fuck is wrong with you, you lunatic?"

Both their eyes darted to the bedroom door at the sound of footsteps.

He frowned at her, lowering his voice. "Great. You woke up my mom." He glanced at the door again. "You win, alright? Just get outta here."

She whispered back incredulously. " _I_ woke up your mom? _You're_ the one who gave me this stupid haircut."

Butch licked his lips nervously. "Yeah, fine. My fault. Now go."

Julia seemed like she was about to continue when the door slid open.

He glared at her for a moment longer, then stood painfully. "Uh, hey mom."

"Butchie...?" She stopped in the doorway and glanced at Julia. Her eyes were rimmed with red, and a near empty bottle was limply hanging from her hand. It was like she was so used to holding one, that she didn't even realize it was there anymore.

"Y-yeah?"

Ellen leaned her head on the door frame. "Keep it down out here, would ya? Trying to sleep this off." She raised the bottle a little.

"Yeah. Yeah, sorry." Butch felt embarrassed, even a little angry. Why did Julia have to come when she did? If she had come a day earlier, or maybe a few hours later, it would have saved them both from this. Instead, he stood awkwardly between the two women. He could handle one or the other, but both was just too much.

"You're a good boy, Butchie," his mother mumbled. "G'night..." She slid back into the bedroom and closed the door.

Butch turned and glared at Julia. Her expression pissed him off more than ever. Her forehead was creased, and she struggled to avoid looking at him, like she hadn't just seen what she'd seen. She had a weird face, and stupid hair, and she was the one pitying him. "Forget what I said before. This _is_ your fault."

"Well-!" She stopped and looked at the ground, trying to collect her thoughts. "...I-"

"Just get outta here." She turned quickly and left. Butch stayed in the same spot for a minute and looked thoughtfully at the open door, wondering what she would have said.

* * *

The imitation sunlight had been dimmed to an orange glow for the night. This usually served as a sign that it was time for bed, but it was one that the Tunnel Snakes always ignored. The lights had been that way for six hours, and the trio was finally returning to the apartments after a last shared beer. "What do you guys think of Christine?" Wally shrugged, and Butch cocked an eyebrow at Paul.

"Why, you thinkin' of gettin' with her?"

Paul smiled a little too much and waved a hand dismissively. "Nah... But... but what if I was? I mean, she's hot, right?"

Butch chuckled and looked forward again. "Whatever, man, just go for it."

"Just don't screw it up," Wally mumbled.

Paul nodded firmly and started to part from the group. "I'll catch you guys later." After a few more steps, he turned and looked back, his fist in the air. "Tunnel Snakes Rule."

After he had rounded the corner into his home, Wally scoffed. "Why does he still do that?"

Butch shrugged. "Because we rule."

"He's a fucking child." Butch wasn't sure when Wally had become so serious, but he was pretty damn sure it was a poor attempt at being a 'grown up'. They continued to walk side by side in silence, until they parted without a word or a look.

He continued down the hall alone, mulling over recent events. He felt odd about his current place in the Vault. He loved cutting hair when the other residents came to him and, oddly, he never looked forward to pulling stunts with his friends anymore. The Overseer had begun offering them special privileges in exchange for going after specific people. It had become a job instead of a way to feel alive in this pit. But there was no real way to get out of it. There was no escape from any of it. What little he had – his friends, food, clean water, and a bed – he would trade away in a heartbeat for a way to leave.

Butch expected his mom to be passed out drunk, as usual. He never had to worry about being too loud when he came home late. Yet, as he turned down the hall to his front door, he was swept with an odd feeling of dread. There was something about the air that felt unsettling and unfamiliar. He stopped and looked up and down the hallway. After seeing nothing, he continued, trying to stay alert. When he was close to his front door, he finally realized what was wrong.

It was open.

At that moment, the alarm began blaring loudly, echoing throughout the halls. Butch looked around in surprise. In his 19 years in the Vault, the alarm had never gone off. He didn't know they even had one.

The Overseer's voice rang out through the PA system. " _This_ _is_ _the_ _Overseer._ _All_ _residents_ _of_ _Vault_ _101_ _are_ _hereby_ _confined_ _to_ _their_ _quarters._ " Having already forgotten the peculiarity of the open door, Butch hurried inside and closed it behind him. Halfway to the couch, he heard his mother in the other room, crying his name. He immediately perked up and ran to the sound of her voice. He froze in the doorway. She was huddled, crying next to her bed as three large radroaches leaped and bit at her.

The alarm sounded distant. All he could hear was the hammering of his heart in his chest, begging to burst out. The switchblade in his pocket suddenly felt like it was pressing hard against his leg.

"Just get it out" he thought to himself, "Just pull it out and _do_ _anything_."

The pulsing in his chest seemed to extend its reach through his whole body. He stared, wide-eyed at his mom being torn into, begging his body to move and being told "no".

One of the radroaches scuttled around, taking notice of him. It had barely moved an inch in his direction when Butch's legs took action for him and bolted in the opposite direction. He tore through the other room and darted out the door. Alarms continued to ring overhead as he ran down the hall. "Help," he panted, struggling to yell over the blaring noises, "Help!"

He caught sight of someone running in his direction. He quickly moved to block their path as they approached. It was Julia.

Suddenly their years of rivalry didn't matter. All hostility he'd previously had toward her melted away.

He gripped her shoulders. "You gotta help me! My mom... She's trapped in there with the radroaches!"

Julia looked passed him restlessly, aching to hurry on her way. She turned back to him. "Where is she?"

Butch searched her face, amazed that she was so quick to help him. "She – She's back in there." He pointed to the right toward his door.

She nodded once and jogged into his apartment. He followed at a safe distance and stopped as he reached the entrance to the bedroom again. One of the radroaches jumped and bit at Julia, who had taken out a bat. The other two were still going for his mom.

Butch suddenly felt very small and useless. For years, he had pictured himself in these situations, whipping out his trusty Toothpick and saving the day. Now that time was here, and all he could do was cry for help and watch someone else take care of things.

A loud THWACK brought him back to his senses. The weight of Julia's bat had done the work for her, and the radroach attacking her lay still a few feet away. She swung the bat in the other direction and took out another, almost taking Ellen DeLoria's knee with it. Butch winced. The remaining one was on top of his mother, making it next to impossible for Julia to accurately hit it without injuring the older woman in the process.

Julia's eyes darted back and forth, assessing the situation, frantically trying to find a way to get it off so she could take care of it. Taking advantage of the pause, the radroach managed to sink its mandibles into the neck in front of it. Julia stiffened in shock, and punted it off. It had barely stood back up when she brought her bat down on its back with a sickening crunch.

Julia strapped her bat to her back again and turned to Ellen. Blood was pouring from her neck, and she made vile gurgling noises as she struggled. Julia dropped to her side and began desperately trying to put pressure on the wound. She was pressing so hard it looked as though the older woman would choke, but dark red liquid quickly appeared and flowed freely between her fingers. Ellen spluttered. Flecks of blood landed on the side of Julia's face. She turned her gaze to Butch, frozen in the doorway, once again. "Help me, goddamn it!"

His eyes were glued on his struggling, gasping mother. "How?"

Blood covered Julia's hands, and dripped and sputtered all over her jumpsuit. "Get me a t-shirt or something." Butch moved mechanically over to his dresser, opened the drawer, and stared blankly inside at the twenty matching white shirts. His brain finally kicked back into gear, and he pulled one out, hurrying it to Julia.

She snatched it from his hands, and held it tightly against Mrs. DeLoria's neck. Julia's eyes were wide, darting between the pool of blood on the floor, the white shirt, slowly being soaked with red, and the older woman's terrified face.

"Why isn't the bleeding stopping?"

Julia's breaths were coming out fast, panicked. "I don't know."

He was stunned. She seemed so confident, to start with. She seemed comfortable in telling him what he should do, but here she was, as unsure about what was happening as he was.

Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, making them unnaturally shiny. She stared at the bleeding woman in front of her, trying to collect herself. "I'm doing everything I can."

It wasn't going to be enough. The shirt was soaked through. Mrs. DeLoria was becoming paler and more still by the second. The room had become nearly silent. Julia's hand wasn't pressed quite so tightly to the wound anymore. His heart was no longer pounding, his breathing had slowed, his head was not buzzing with thoughts. He simply stared at her, knowing and understanding exactly what was happening. Her breaths grew fainter, and they finally stopped.

His mother was dead.

Julia let out a sigh, as though she had been holding her breath, and let her head drop in defeat. She stood up, a little unsteady, and took a few steps toward Butch. Her hands and sleeves were soaked in blood, along with the knees on her jumpsuit. There was a slight smear across her forehead where she'd tried to wipe away sweat at one point. The layer of water was gone from her eyes, but they were filled with shame and sadness. They looked at each other for a moment, gathering their thoughts. She finally spoke. "You okay?"

Butch was about to reply, when the Overseer's voice came on again over the intercom. " _Do_ _not_ _interfere_ _with_ _Vault_ _Security_ _personnel._ _Any_ _resident_ _found_ _outside_ _his_ _or_ _her_ _quarters_ _will_ _be_ _dealt_ _with._ _Severely._ _That_ _is_ _all._ " Julia looked at Butch again. She muttered a "sorry" and ran out.

He stared after her for a full minute, wondering if she'd run back to her own quarters. He eventually looked back at his mom. She was propped limply up against the wall, her whole torso soaked with blood. Her heavy lidded eyes open and glazed over.

He couldn't help but feel uncomfortable at the sight. He finally moved across the room, tore the sheet off the nearby bed, and draped it over her. Her feet stuck out of the bottom awkwardly.

Butch looked at her for a moment longer, before picking up a bottle of whiskey that had fallen on the floor, and taking it back to the other room.

He stayed up all night, too afraid and distraught to go to sleep. Too uncomfortable to even try when there was something that was no longer his mother in the next room.

It wasn't until morning that someone came for the body, and he discovered why Julia was running.

* * *

Butch wandered through the corridors later in the morning, after his mom's body had been removed. It was quieter than usual. He saw most of the residents, but quite a few seemed to be missing. He wanted to see Julia badly. His friends just didn't seem to be the right people to talk to about how he was feeling. He thought she was the one person here that might understand.

As he made his way through, he started noticing odd things. He thought there had simply been some sort of breach, and a lot of radroaches had gotten in, but there was a whole chunk of the living quarters that looked charred, like there had been a large fire. It was Paul's area. Butch felt his stomach drop, and quickly changed direction.

Near the Atrium a hallway was splattered with blood and had bullet holes in the walls. It seemed like the gunfire had come from both directions though. Last time he checked, radroaches couldn't use guns.

As he studied the holes in the walls, the Overseer's voice came on once again. " _All_ _residents,_ _gather_ _in_ _the_ _class room_ _immediately._ " Butch reluctantly left the area.

As he walked toward the room, barely noticing his legs moving, he saw Wally Mack leaving his apartment after his family. Wally looked at him seriously, and waited for him to catch up. As Butch approached, Wally grabbed his shoulder quickly and let go. "Hey man, I heard about your mom..."

Butch bit the inside of his lower lip and nodded. "Have you seen Paul around?"

"You don't know?" Butch stared blankly as Wally waited for some sort of response. "Radroaches got him."

"Oh." The response left him as naturally as though he were hearing about a weather forecast. He turned his gaze to the floor. Wally stared down the hall. Butch didn't know what to say. He had lost most of the people he cared about in less than 12 hours. He finally choked out his next question. "What about Julia?"

"Julia?" Wally repeated the name harshly. "It's that bitch and her fucking dad's fault all this shit happened in the first place! Why the fuck would you want to see her?" Butch stared at him, surprised and confused. "Come on, we gotta go."

They walked in silence the rest of the way, their boots clunking against the metal ground. When they got to the classroom, they sat in their old desks across the room from each other. It was somewhat startling that all the residents could fit so easily inside a small room. Had the population diminished that much? The Overseer stood at the front of the room.

"Very early this morning, we faced something terrible." Butch could see where the speech was going. He looked around the room, for other missing people. Julia and her dad were nowhere to be seen. Neither was Jonas, and he'd always been close to the two of them. He cocked an eyebrow. "I must give my deepest condolences to those of you who lost a family member, or someone close. Our security and I did all we could to prevent disaster, but given the situation, casualties were going to be difficult to avoid." By the look on Old Lady Palmer's face, her grandson was one of the losses that was being talked about. "Now, it is time to explain what happened.

"The Vault door was opened." This caught Butch's attention. He slowly straightened in his desk, his icy blue eyes focusing on the speaker. There were a few gasps and murmurs. Wally didn't seem surprised, but then his dad was head of security. Of all the younger crowd, he was most likely to be in the know about these things.

"That's right. For a reason that is yet to be discovered, our doctor, James, broke through our security and escaped. Before the door had been closed again, some creatures from the outside managed to get in. We attempted to question his assistant, Jonas, but the radroaches had already gotten to him."

Out of the corner of his eye, Butch noticed Amata's face. She looked furious. Figures the Overseer's daughter would immediately side with daddy.

"Not long after, James' daughter Julia followed her father and also escaped. During the upset, she killed, or otherwise harmed many of our neighbors who were in the way."

Butch's mouth hung open.

"I'd like to take a moment of silence to remember Officers Kendall, Park, Wolfe, Richards, and O'Brian, who fought so bravely, as well as Vikki Hannon and Paul Hannon Jr., Floyd Lewis, Ellen DeLoria, Anne Palmer and her son Jonas, and Tom and Mary Holden, who were also killed. Perhaps if I had kept a closer eye on James and his daughter, I could have foreseen this and somehow prevented-"

"That's a goddamned lie!" The Overseer looked coldly at Butch, who had shot out of his chair.

"If there's something you want to say, Mr. DeLoria, it can wait until later."

Butch clenched his fists, and stood his ground. "That's not how my mom died. You lying about the others too?"

The Overseer stared at him for a moment. The small crowd was also staring now; some scattered whispering around the room. "Absolutely not. We have security footage of her murdering the those who were in her way as she was leaving."

"Maybe she wouldn't have done it if you hadn't sent your goons after her with loaded pistols." All eyes turned to the girl in the front desk. Amata was looking at the ground, clutching the loose fabric of her jumpsuit with a death grip.

Butch was confused for a moment. The daddy's girl couldn't possibly be on the opposite side of dear old dad. She looked at her father.

"Julia isn't a killer. She would only ever do something like that to defend herself. I'll bet she had nothing to do with the Holdens, too." She spat. "Isn't that right? Dad?"

"That's enough." The Overseer no longer looked composed. An ugly sneer was plastered across his face. "The two of them put the entire Vault at risk with their selfish needs. That door needs to remain closed. That is, as it has always been, law. It's not safe out there."

Amata stood."It's been opened before!" She whirled around to face everyone else in the room. "The Vault has been opened before! The search team even made it back okay! There's a whole town less than a mile from here!" She looked at her father again. "Our numbers get smaller every generation! Do you expect us to survive down here for much longer with no outside contact?"

"I said that's enough!" The room fell silent. Butch looked around. Some looked angry, and decent number seemed to direct it toward the Overseer.

"I think it is time for all of us to return to our homes. I recommend you all stay there. It's still not safe."

Butch caught Amata's eye, and they looked at each other meaningfully. For once, they seemed to be on the same side.


	2. Chapter 2

"Damn!"

"Well, let me try." Butch gathered and reluctantly handed the length of rope over to Freddie. Freddie positioned himself and looked up at the ceiling beam, screwing up his face in concentration. He loosely swung his arm back and forth like a pendulum. Butch crossed his arms and looked from Freddie to the beam, over 20 feet above them. He began to doubt they would be able to make this toss a second time.

Freddie finally let the bundle go. It flew high and uncoiled gracefully over the beam. Butch's face lit up, and he clapped his hand on the other's back. "YES! Alright, Gomez!"

Freddie shrugged. "You shoulda let me do it last time."

"You're damn right, I should've!" He lifted up the old harness they had found in the maintenance room several weeks before. "Do you remember how this goes on? Cause I sure as hell don't..."

Brotch watched them in silence from the doorway as they bantered in hushed voices.

"How the fuck did we figure this out before?"

"Wait, I think this straps around here."

"Woah, Gomez! Get your hands away from there, you homo!"

"I'm not a homo, you're the homo! At least I have a girlfriend, asshole!"

"Whatever! Just let me do that part!" Butch slapped Freddie's hands away and tightened the buckle around his thigh. "So then this–" he lifted a similar strap, which was connected to the one on his leg, "must go here..." He looped it around his shoulder and fastened it. This left both of the arm straps dangling awkwardly. He stepped through one.

"... That doesn't look right at all."

"Can it, Gomez." They continued to tinker around with it until it was somewhat secure. It was sideways, but Butch either didn't notice or didn't care. The strap with the metal loop attached was dangling from something close to the right place, and that was all that was important.

Freddie grabbed one end of the rope and tied a bowline knot to the loop. Once it was secure, he took the other end in both hands. "You ready?" Butch withdrew a can of spray paint from his pocket and grabbed the rope to keep himself steady. He nodded.

"Ready."

Freddie grounded himself, took a firm grip on the rope, and counted. "One– two– three!" He pulled hard. Butch rose a couple inches off the ground. Freddie grunted, and let his body sink to the floor. Butch rose another foot. Freddie let out a puff of air, and loosened his grip on the rope. Butch fell back to the ground and stumbled.

"What the hell, man?"

Freddie wiped the sweat from his forehead. "This was a lot easier when we had Wally helping us."

Butch let out a sharp hiss of breath and looked away. "Fuck that guy. We don't need him."

As the two stared thoughtfully at their poorly thought out rig, Brotch finally stepped in. "You two need any help?"

They stared at him in surprise. Brotch had been hanging around their group a lot, since the night of the escape, but he was never exactly nice to the younger crowd. Butch still had a hunch that he had lied about his G.O.A.T. results. "Sorry, old man, this might be a bit too much for you to handle." Freddie slapped Butch on the back of the head. He let out a heavy sigh, and continued. "But I guess we could use an extra pair of hands."

"Well, so long as this haggard  _old_ _man_ isn't getting in your way..." Brotch had crossed his arms, and they all stared at each other for a second.

Freddie interrupted the short-lived silence. "On three, alright?" Brotch nodded, came closer, and took hold of the rope. Butch prepared himself again. "One– Two– Three!" It worked much better this time. He was hoisted up about a foot at a time. On his way up, he wondered why Brotch offered to help. He supposed he was just as mad about the current situation as they were, or he wouldn't be hanging around them in the clinic. Most of what their group was doing was trying to talk things out with the Overseer. Butch and Freddie, on the other hand, were clearly breaking the rules, just trying to enjoy some freedom. Butch glanced down and noticed an almost excited look on the older man's face. Maybe that was all he wanted. Maybe he just wanted to stir things up for once, and do something more interesting than seeking peaceful meetings with an old idiot who thinks he's in charge. He could respect that. Making trouble came to some people naturally, and others just wanted to get their blood pumping. Finally, the hoisting stopped, and Butch was left dangling. He carefully withdrew his can of black spray paint, positioned it comfortably in his hand, and got to work.

_F_

He could distantly hear Freddie and Brotch talking about what they could secure the rope to. Freddie seemed to want to take the slack to a support beam and tie it there, but Brotch insisted that they just hold on. "Hey!" Butch yelled down, not particularly caring about his volume at this point, "Just hang on to it, Gomez. I'm not gonna dangle here if Security shows."

_U_

As he sprayed, he let his thoughts wander. It was far from art, and despite what he had told Freddie, it had nothing to do with making a political statement. That sort of thing was never exactly on the Tunnel Snake agenda.

_C_

He wasn't like Amata. In actuality, their motives for wanting the Vault opened were basically the opposite. She wanted to open the Vault for the good of its occupants. She wanted trading, and information, and the means to keep their numbers from dwindling until there was no one left. Butch only wanted it open for himself.

_K_

His mind wandered to Julia. She hadn't exactly had a good time here either, now that he thought about it. She and her dad were never popular. Even the Overseer had treated them like dirt. No doubt that had contributed to how everyone else acted toward them. But now, Julia had what he wanted. Were things out there better for people like her? For people like him?

_Y_

It was the G.O.A.T.s fault. Just because he liked doing hair didn't mean he wanted to do that for a career. Well, not forever, anyway. And certainly not for anyone who asked. Butch DeLoria didn't answer to anybody!

_O_

If the outside was the wasteland the Overseer said it was, then all the better. He wanted anarchy. He wanted chaos. He wanted to be able to do whatever he damn well-

Butch was barely done with the _U_ when he heard a shrill "What the hell are you guys doing?" from the doorway. He felt air rushing past him, and then a brief, hard jerk. The stop lasted only moments before he was descending again, still way too fast. After landing hard on his ass, he saw Freddie with his hands in the air and a deer-in-the-headlights expression, his eyes locked on a furious Amata who was standing where Brotch had been only minutes ago. The older man was hunched over, tending to his very red hands.

"Are you stupid or something?" Amata yelled, "Security is practically begging for a reason to lock us up, and you're _doing_ _graffiti_?" Seemingly on cue, they heard the surprisingly familiar running footsteps of Vault Security. The four of them looked at each other for a second, knowing exactly what was going through the others' minds. Run.

Freddie didn't need any more than that fleeting thought before he bolted from the area. Butch was frantically fumbling with the buckles of the harness. Brotch was helping with the thigh straps. After what felt like ages, they were all undone. Right as Butch was about to start running as well, Brotch stopped him. "Give me the spray paint! I'll stall them."

Butch hesitantly handed it over to him and waited for a moment for him to do something with it, but Brotch stood his ground. "Wait, are you just gonna sit here? You crazy?"

The older man turned and stared at him with a harsh look on his face. "Just run, alright?"

Butch stood and stared for a minute longer. He could make out shadows growing larger in the hallway out of the corner of his eye. He felt a violent tug on the shoulder of his jacket, snapping him back to the present. There was another tug, and he followed.

It was Amata. She was running next to him, clutching tightly to his collar. There was still friction between them, despite being on the same side now, but Butch was momentarily thankful. He wasn't sure why he had spaced out like that. Maybe it was because nobody had ever been so willing to take the fall for him.

Without needing to think, he kept running, a dizzying sense of familiarity slowly taking hold. He felt like he'd been in a similar situation many times before, only maybe without security involved. They weaved through the halls, distant footsteps echoing behind them. Butch was beginning to doubt whether Amata knew where she was going, as she seemed to be making her decisions in a split second at every turn.

With each tug of his collar, Butch was gripped with that sense of deja vu again. It reminded him of his childhood, when his mother would pull him home in a similar manner, after he'd done something wrong. Oddly, this was a somewhat fond memory of Butch's. He and his mother had never had a very close relationship, but looking back, he was glad that she cared enough to take him home and yell at him herself.

He felt a lump forming in his throat. She was gone now. Though those times where she would take him home like that were dead long before she was, the fact that she would never speak again, never say how disappointed she was in him again, never call him "Butchie" again, stung like hell. He bit his lip, his eyes burning. He could feel tears threatening to fall, making him look like the pansy he'd always dreaded becoming.

Amata stopped abruptly, and Butch nearly plowed her over. She steadied herself and listened intently, hearing the footsteps draw steadily closer. She opened a nearby maintenance closet quickly, dragged Butch inside with her, and shut it behind them. She released his collar, and he collapsed against some shelves, clutching himself. She sat on her knees with her ear pressed to the door.

Butch felt an enormous pressure weighing down his lungs. It was almost unrecognizable. He hadn't felt anything like it since he was a child. What was it? Despite his efforts to control himself, a sob escaped. Once the initial one happened, he couldn't stop himself. Tears started rolling down his cheeks, accompanied by chest-wracking sobs. Amata slowly turned and looked at him. "Butch...?"

He covered his face, ashamed, but unable to stop himself from croaking, "Oh my god, my mom's dead."

Amata's gaze darted back to the door, hearing footsteps drawing closer. "Butch, we can talk about this later." she hissed. She scooted closer and gripped the sleeves of his jacket. "Just please stop crying!"

"I should have done something. I wanted to, but – I couldn't."

In one swift motion, Amata wrapped an arm around his shoulders and slapped her free hand over his mouth. "Shut! Up!"

Butch continued to sob quietly, tears flooding from his red-rimmed eyes. All he could think of was how his being such a pussy all of the sudden was going to get them caught. He was a little glad Amata was so close, though he knew it wasn't intended to be comforting.

The heavy footsteps thundered past and grew further and further away. Amata slowly released him and scooted herself to the opposite side of the closet. Butch rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of the tears. His throat hurt, and his stomach had a strange empty feeling, but somehow, he was feeling better. Drained, but better. Amata stared. "Do you... do you want to talk about it?"

"Tch!" He mopped up the various fluids from his face with his sleeve and stared at her."No!" He sighed heavily. He felt like his whole face was sagging. He could feel Amata's gaze still on him. "Would you stop staring?" He snapped, though he wished he hadn't. They had been on better terms than usual, lately, and she was the part of reason he wasn't crying anymore. She didn't deserve that.

He quickly changed the subject. "Why'd you show up, anyway? All you've been talking about for days is about how we shouldn't leave the clinic, you damn hippo... hippo..."

She frowned, her lip curling in disgust. "Seriously? Still with the fat jokes?"

Butch sighed hard, frustrated. "No! You tell us not to do something, and then you're turning around and—"

Amata blinked. "... You mean 'hypocrite'?"

"Yeah, yeah... answer the question, smartass."

"I wanted to give you guys some news."

Butch perked up. They'd decided weeks ago to do something about their situation, but so far, they hadn't made any progress, aside from some boring chats with the Overseer. This had to be big, for her to break her precious no-leaving-the-area rule just to tell everyone.

"I sent out a distress signal. To the outside." She paused for a moment, staring at the ground. "To _Julia_."

Butch rolled his eyes. "You went all the way to the Atrium to tell us that? What good is that supposed to do?"

She leaned forward and spoke insistently. "She's been on the outside for a month, Butch. She's bound to have _some_ perspective on this whole thing. She'll talk some sense into my dad, for sure."

He sniffled and rubbed his nose a little with the back of his hand. "She's probably dead. Aside from those random-ass pictures in your dad's office, who knows what's really out there? There could be dragons and shit, for all we know."

Amata closed her eyes calmly, a very small smile curling the corners of her mouth. "No. Not Julia. She's alive out there somewhere. I can feel it."

* * *

Butch leaned against Brotch's old desk in the classroom, watching Amata. She had her fingers laced together under her chin and was staring at the empty blackboard pensively. The radio broadcasting equipment they had found sat at the front of the classroom, repeating her voice over and over. _"_ _I_ _know_ _you're_ _still_ _out_ _there._ _I just... hope you're still alive to hear this..."_

Butch cracked his neck, breaking the silence. "How can you just sit here and listen to your own voice all day?"

"I have to make sure nothing interferes with the signal."

" _If_ _you_ _can_ _hear_ _this,_ _please_ _stop_ _looking_ _for_ _your_ _dad_ _and_ _help_ _stop_ _mine._ _I've_ _changed_ _the_ _door_ _password_ _to_ _my_ _name._ _If_ _you're_ _hearing_ _this,_ _and_ _if_ _you_ _still_ _care_ _enough_ _to_ _help_ _me,_ _you_ _should_ _remember_ _it._ **MESSAGE** **REPEATS** _"_

He winced. The robotic voice at the end was jarring, even after hearing the message hundreds of times. "Just turn the damn thing off." He scratched his head and then crossed his arms. "Can't take that shit anymore."

Amata turned to him abruptly. "Go back to your post then." She turned her eyes back to the front of the room. "I don't know why you're even here, if you hate it so much."

She had been on edge ever since the broadcast had started. Butch supposed she had expected Julia to come running, and get there in only a few days, but it had been three weeks, and Security was really beginning to try in earnest to break up their group. Though she hadn't said it to anyone, he knew what was bothering her the most.

" _I just... hope you're still alive to hear this..."_ Amata sank down and rest her chin against her folded arms.

Once they had all banded together, she had told everyone the truth about what happened the night the Vault was opened. He wasn't sure if anyone else had noticed, but her voice had stuck a little when she talked about helping Julia leave.

For the most part, she seemed convinced that her best friend was still alive out there somewhere, but there were times that that belief seemed to falter. Sometimes it was in her eyes, or in her voice, or even in the way she seemed to fiddle with things when she was doubtful. His gaze lingered for a moment longer before he finally tore his eyes away. So what if he looked at her a lot? A guy can look at a girl without being a creep, right? He shoved his hands deep inside his pockets and left the room, as she'd asked.

It had been a long... _long_ time since he'd looked at her as often as he had been. She was a brat, and a goody-two-shoes, but she was easy on the eyes. He remembered so long ago, when he was barely a teenager, he would watch her sometimes in class. Of course, he hadn't really liked her then either, but Butch didn't really like anyone at that age.

There was one day when they'd both had to stay late. He was kept there by the teacher, probably for the usual crap, but she had lost an essay that was due that day. She was so upset... about to cry, even. At the time, Butch didn't get it. It was just a stupid essay, right? It wasn't until years later, when he really saw the way her dad talked to her that he finally got it.

During their detention though, Brotch left to do something teacher-y, and they were alone. He remembered how he stood up, squared his still-narrow shoulders, marched over, and kissed her right on the mouth. It wasn't a deep one, or particularly well executed, but he had always counted it in his mind as his first. When he pulled away, she looked terrified. And then she did start crying.

She stood and pushed him away, and then she ran through the door, ignoring the rest of her detention. Julia was outside the door, waiting for her. When she saw Butch was left standing there, looking after the girl he'd just kissed, she dragged a finger across her neck menacingly, and then pointed at him before turning to go after her.

Butch didn't really feel hurt, or sad, but he felt _angry_. Maybe it was irrational, but he'd never really forgiven Amata for that day, and he supposed she'd never forgiven him either.

He settled down on the other side of some shelves they'd put in the hallway as a sort of barrier. He didn't care how nice Amata was to look at, or the weird feeling he got in the pit of his stomach when they seemed to be holding a normal conversation. If the Vault was opened, he was gone, and that was that.

Butch was taken out of his train of thought by the sound of a single pair of feet, thudding against the ground. He jumped up and whipped out Toothpick, ready for whatever was coming his way. He slowly peeked around the side of the shelves, and sighed, relaxing.

Freddie ran past him, and rounded the corner into the classroom. His voice was muffled, but Butch's eyes widened as he made out the words "She's here". He abandoned his post once again, to hear the conversation better.

Amata was standing now, looking more energetic and hopeful than she had in months. "Well where is she? Did you bring her here?"

Freddie shook his head. "I didn't. I dunno where she went."

She looked irritated. "Why didn't you tell her where we were?"

"I'm _sorry_ , Amata, I barely noticed her before Officer Taylor shot at me. I had to make a run for it."

Butch made his way into the room. "Jesus, Gomez, what'd you do to piss Taylor off?"

Freddie turned to him, indignant. " _He_ pissed _me_  off!"

Amata briskly walked over to Butch and started pushing him out of the room. "Get! Back! To your! Post!" He glared at her. "If Julia showed up, my dad might decide to do something rash, alright? Can you _please_ actually keep watch for once?"

Butch turned and let out a frustrated "Urrgh!" before returning to his spot. It was so _boring_. Of course when something interesting finally happens again, he's told to go sit and be quiet... His mind was racing though. Julia just being there was more progress than they'd made in... well, since they'd grouped up and decided things needed to change. What would happen? Julia had some pretty damn good reason to just go on a killing spree, but from what he knew about her, he thought it was (unfortunately) unlikely.

He heard more voices in the next room. He supposed Amata had gathered everyone to tell them the news. Freddie was talking animatedly, like he'd held a long conversation with her, rather than ran like a coward. He scoffed. Tunnel Snakes aren't cowards. Maybe he'd been wrong to give Freddie that jacket...

Then he heard it. A strange clicking noise, and an inhuman, throaty panting. If Julia had opened the Vault to come inside... could she have brought some... _thing_ from the outside? Butch felt cold all of the sudden, as he remembered that night. It was months ago, but imagining a repeat of everything chilled him to the bone. This sound though, slowly growing closer, sounded nothing like the clicking mandibles of the radroaches, and the deep breathing was even more unfamiliar. What could it be?

"Be brave..." he uttered to himself. "Not like last time." Butch took out his knife, and slowly leaned to the corner. Finally, he mustered the courage to take a peek. What he saw was a pair of eyes, one brown and one blue. He gasped, and it licked his face.

IT WAS TASTING HIM.

He fell over backwards, and kicked his feet, frantically skittering away, until his back was flush up against the wall. Now that he was still, he got a better look. It was... "A dog?" He wondered for a moment if he might be dreaming.

The animal was dirtier than anything Butch had ever seen, but it seemed pleasant and content, despite that. The low breathing he'd heard seemed natural and easy, now that he saw the animal it accompanied, and its tail wagged slowly behind it. Once the shock had worn off, Butch became excited. A dog was _really_ standing there right in front of him. It trotted closer, its claws clicking against the ground as it walked, and it sniffed his hand gingerly. Butch stared at the dog, which seemed totally at ease. He wondered if he could...

His fingers touched the fur lightly at first, and then he stroked it. It was a little rough with dirt, but it was still the softest thing he'd ever touched. His eyes lit up. The dog laid down next to him, enjoying the attention.

The sound of actual, human footsteps caught his ear. They weren't the quick steps of anyone from Security... Butch smirked. He had a feeling he knew exactly who it was. He stood up, relaxed. The second he saw her face, he spoke, catching her attention. "Damn, look who's come waltzing back into the Vault. It takes some real balls coming back here after everything you and your dad screwed up."

She didn't seem to react. Butch's smirk disappeared as she studied him. Her large eyes had a harsh look about them that he'd never seen before. Her skin was dingy. Her clothes really caught his attention. When he thought about it, he'd only ever seen people in Vault suits before. The signature jacket of the Tunnel Snakes was probably the most original piece of clothing in the place. But she was wearing a coarse, grimy leather duster that looked like it had been worn by many people before her, and roughed up, heavy boots.

The nervousness he felt while looking at her was surreal. He continued, a little more cautious than before. "But if you've gotta be back, might as well make yourself useful... You gotta help us."

"Don't worry," She removed a heavy looking pack from her back and dropped it on the ground by the wall. "I'm trying to help the entire Vault."

"Man, screw the entire Vault. What about me?"

Her mouth flattened, and she raised a skeptical eyebrow at him. Now that was more like the Julia he'd grown up with.

"Even those rebels just want the option to go outside for lousy trading and stuff. I just want to get the hell out of here for good." He leaned back against the wall. The dog cocked its head from side to side, looking attentive. "Why stay here and be stuck as a barber my entire life, when I could go out there and make my own choices?"

Julia slowly crossed her arms, holding back a smile. "Why do you need to get out of here so badly?" The question had the same tone as a parent responding to the immature logic of a child. He scowled.

"Because anything up there has got to be better than a lifetime of the same thing down here... Think about it, man. Down here, I'll always be stuck with the same job, with the same food, with the same people, forever. You and your dad had the right idea." Her lip curled at the mention of her father. Butch ignored it. "Get out of this pit, and make your own life."

"What do you think you're going to do outside, Butch?"

"I'll start a gang, of course! Why, it'll be the toughest, coolest, badass-est gang the wasteland's ever seen! Hey, play your cards right, maybe I'll even let you join it, huh?"

She smiled wryly. "You have no idea how many gangs of idiot Raiders are out there..."

"Well, they ain't seen nothing like me, yet! Butch is gonna take that Wasteland by storm!" He punched at the air.

Finally, she smiled. Granted, she still looked worn down and weary around the eyes, and the smile itself looked more incredulous than anything, but it set him a little at ease. "I bet you're Mole Rat chow before you make it one day out there."

He relaxed against the wall again. "Yeah, well, get us out of here, and we'll see, won't we?"

She looked off to the side, and her expression warmed to something fond. He curiously followed her gaze to Amata. She stood several feet away with an awed, almost tearful look in her eye. She finally choked out some words. "Oh my god, you're back!" Amata stumbled toward her, arms outstretched. "You got my message and actually came back!"

Julia approached her. "I came as soon as I heard you were in trouble."

"Oh, thank you!" She hugged her tightly, and Julia returned the motion fiercely. "Everything's gone crazy since you left, and now that you're back, you can help set things straight." Amata led her toward the clinic to talk.

"You saved my life back then, Amata. The least I can do is help you out now." Julia glanced back as she walked and let out a light whistle. The dog got up and followed her. "Good boy."

As she continued toward the clinic, Butch noticed the large, wicked gun slung over her back. His eyebrows raised. It made the 10mm pistol at his waist look like a pea shooter.

Butch followed them at a distance, trying to overhear their conversation. The last thing he wanted was Amata yelling at him to get back to guarding the area again. He leaned against the wall beside the clinic door, focusing his attention on their voices.

"I think I have a solution for the Vault's troubles."

"I certainly hope so. We can't keep going on like this."

"I'll stop your father and his guards. Just watch."

"You will?" Amata sighed, relieved. "Thank goodness for that. No matter what I say, he just doesn't listen. He just spends all day up in his office. But you've been outside, so you can tell him what it's like with first hand experience! Just... don't do anything rash or hurt him, alright?"

A moment passed before Julia responded, her voice hard and grim. "... I'm not promising anything. He'll be stopped, one way or another."

"But... he's still my father." Amata had gone very quiet. "He may have made terrible choices that night, but he's the same person who's always looked out for us before then."  
  
Julia snorted. "'Us'?"  
  
"I know, I know... But... Maybe he has some reason. Just... please don't kill him. We've already had too many deaths."

Julia considered this silently for a moment, before turning away from her and walking out of the clinic. Butch caught up to her and grabbed her arm.

"You want a bodyguard, nosebleed?"

Julia brushed him off. "No thanks." She removed the assault rifle from her back and racked the slide. "I'm set."

He trotted along beside her as she turned down the hallway to leave the area. "So how are we gonna handle this? Lies? Sweet talk? Blow his damn head off?"

Julia turned around and slowly backed him into a wall. "WE are not going to handle anything. YOU are going to stay put, and I am going to go take care of this."

"Awe, come on! I'm sick of being stuck here!"

"Dogmeat, watch him." The dog looked at him and growled. Julia turned and continued on her way.

Butch cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled "Biiitch!"

She flipped him off without looking at him and continued walking.

"You're asking for it, nosebleed!" He crossed his arms firmly and glared as she turned down the stairs and out of sight. He glanced to the dog at his feet. He was staring up at him curiously. "What are you lookin' at, you mutt?"

He continued to stare, stiff and serious.

"I don't need some dog for a babysitter! Especially not one with such a dumb name."

Dogmeat whined softly at this, but didn't move his gaze.

Butch felt around on his person, until his hand met his switchblade, Toothpick. He hated to do this, but he couldn't think of anything else. He removed it from his pocket and waved it in front of the dog's eyes. Dogmeat looked excited now. He was panting and jumping back and forth happily.

"You want it? You want it?"

He barked once in response.

"Then fetch!"

Dogmeat ran past him to where the closed switchblade had clattered to the ground. Butch smirked and ran for the stairs. He skipped steps as he went and hit the ground at the bottom with a thud. He had just begun to turn right toward the upper level stairs when something pulled at his leg. He fell to the ground with a loud thud.

Once he'd gotten his breath, he propped himself up on his elbows and looked behind him. Dogmeat had sunk his teeth into his pant leg, and was growling and pulling at him. His switchblade laid on the ground a few feet away.

"Alright, alright, lemme go!"

The dog hesitantly released him.

Butch rolled over and pushed himself up into a sitting position. He motioned to his Toothpick. "Bring that here, will ya?"

The dog obliged.

Butch took it from him and checked for damage. Surprisingly, he hadn't left any noticeable toothmarks. It looked as good as it had ever been. He patted the dog on the head. "Truce?"

"Arrouf!"

This was good enough for him."So here's the thing. I don't like being told what to do. And I don't like being cooped up in a place like that, you get me?"

This was ridiculous. Butch wasn't sure why he thought talking to the dog would achieve anything. He supposed it was nice to feel like he was being heard for once. The dog just looked at him. At least he had his undivided attention.

"So why don't we go see what your master's up to?"

The dog dropped his head and whined, his ears falling flat against his head.

"Don't give me that!" He got to his feet. "If she finds out, I'll take the heat, alright?"

Dogmeat slowly walked forward and leaned against Butch's leg. He didn't know much about dogs, but he took it as a good sign.

"Let's go then."

As he started walking, he was pleased to see Dogmeat trotting beside him. Either books and old cartoons had given him a wrong impression about dogs, or this one was extremely well behaved.

Together, they continued to the staircase just down the hall. Unless she had other business to take care of, he figured she would be heading straight to the Overseer's office. He jogged up the stairs, and halted before opening the door. He turned to Dogmeat, panting loudly at his side.

"Sssshhh!"

He licked his chops and shut his mouth.

Butch scratched him behind the ears a little and opened the door. In their attempt to be quiet, the door sounded much louder than it probably was. Enough that Butch jumped a little and hid to the side.

When it was clear no one was coming, he slunk around the corner and peeked down the hallway. It seemed to be clear. He took a sharp left and turned into the corridor leading to the Overseer's office. He knew he'd made the right choice, when he could hear some distant voices.

He edged his way closer to the door, and crouched outside, leaning close to the doorway. Dogmeat stood next to him, his ears pointed forward at the sound of the Overseer's voice. Butch peeked one eye through the doorway.

The Overseer was standing with his back to Julia, staring through his round window to the atrium. He must have been confident in the conversation, if he was comfortable lowering his defenses. She still had her gun drawn, but her grip was relaxed, letting the barrel point at the ground.

"He certainly showed his true colors in the end. Were he raised in the cleanness of our Vault, perhaps your father would have shown more dedication to the important things in life. Just as well that he left. We mustn't let humanity's last pure specimens be sullied with his type."

Butch's eyebrows shot up. Everyone in the Vault knew it had been opened once before at this point, but that James was not born inside like the rest of them was news to him. He listened harder.

"At least my father didn't hide from the outside his whole life."

"No, but he didn't risk bringing you out into it, either." The Overseer turned to face her, a cruel smile playing across his lips. "You have to wonder, is that why he left you behind? He wanted to know you were someplace safe? And then, like a _fool_ , you squandered the greatest gift he ever left you."

Julia glared at him for a long time. Butch saw her finger twitch over the trigger. Finally, she took a deep breath, slowly releasing it through pursed lips. "You know, I just don't care anymore. Let me leave, and I'll never come back."

"As I always suspected. You never cared about the Vault. Now that you've been outside, you're nothing more than an ignorant savage, just like your father."

Before Butch knew what was happening, deafening gunfire pressed in on his ears. Through the ringing that followed, he heard a wet mass hit the ground. The smoke and cordite in the air suffocated him. The edges of his vision began to blur and darken. He shook his head quickly. No way in hell he could let himself faint right now. He looked from the unrecognizable body to Julia's face. She was staring coldly ahead, her gun relaxed in her grip. She turned and-

Butch swore. "Shit!" She had seen him. He tripped over his own feet as he scrambled up and charged back to where he came from.

He tore down the stairs, his boots clanking against the metal steps. In his rush, he almost missed his turn. "Shit!" he said again. "Shit, shit, shit!" Finally, he skidded into the upper hallway, past the blockades. He crouched there, clutching at the pounding in his chest and panting.

Could what he had just seen be possible? Teacher's Pet, goody-goody, daddy's girl Julia killing an authority figure in cold blood? Killing _anyone_ in cold blood? He couldn't get the look on her face out of his head. He had his fair share of scraps with her, and there was always some show of emotion on her face, whether it was anger or amusement. But as she pulled the trigger on the Overseer, there was nothing.

It was strange, the feeling that was growing in the pit of his stomach from seeing her do it, when he knew he would do the same. He would do it a hundred times over, if it meant he could leave.

Dogmeat padded up to him and licked his face. Butch wiped the drool away with his sleeve.

A small group had gathered behind him. Amata stood at the front. "Where were you?"

Butch stood. His mouth hung open a little, still trying to catch his breath. "I was-"

"I've told you over and over, you're supposed to stay put until this is sorted out!"

Butch cut in, a little louder than he intended. "He's dead!"

Amata went silent. Her wide eyes darted over his face. "What?"

"Your dad. She shot him."

Everyone's eyes awkwardly turned to her, but hers remained on Butch, staring at him with a look of disdain, as though it were his fault.

He was glad when Christine mumbled "Does this mean Amata is the new Overseer?"

* * *

Julia crossed her arms and cleared her throat. "I'm sorry about your father. But now the Vault can have a real leader."

"I'm sure you did everything you could to find another way. I know how stubborn he is..." Amata's voice caught in her throat, and she looked sad for a moment. "How stubborn he was. But you're right. I don't have time to grieve just because I lost my father. The Vault needs a leader now." She looked at her old friend sadly. "That makes the rest of this even harder."

"I did what had to be done. And I'd do it again if necessary."

Amata cut in. "I realize that!" She took a breath, trying to calm herself, and continued. "And I don't blame you. If you hadn't been here, maybe one of us would have done the same. You saved us. But that doesn't change the fact that you killed the Overseer in cold blood to do it, and I can't let that sort of thing stand here. I'm sorry. You're a hero... and you have to leave."

Butch was as caught off guard as Julia seemed to be. Things were about to change for the better, just as they'd all wanted, and Amata was kicking her out?

"Fine." From the harsh tone, he could tell that it was the last word she intended to ever say to her old friend. He couldn't blame her, really. The one person left in the Vault who had ever really seemed to accept her had now abandoned her.

Julia pushed past Amata and walked into her father's old office. Butch followed behind her. For once, he felt sorry for her. Her usual smug, self-satisfied attitude had all but disappeared since she'd left, and he didn't imagine being re-kicked out was doing her much good. He had never particularly liked her, but now she had helped him out (or tried to) twice. He at least owed her some respect.

She had only been in her father's old office for a moment, before she slowly turned and looked at him, annoyed. "Do you make a habit of following people?"

Butch puffed up his chest. Figures, she'd jump down his throat right away. "Nobody tells me where I can and can't go!"

"Well, it wasn't fun to see, was it? Maybe give listening to people a try for once." Her eyes darted to Dogmeat, who stood at his feet. "And you... some loyal companion you are."

The dog whimpered and hid behind Butch's legs.

"Hey, you don't gotta do that. I talked him into it."

She stared at him, letting the ridiculousness of his statement sink in.

"Well I did!"

Julia sighed, and turned away from him. She lifted a frame off the wall. "It doesn't matter." The frame was a lot deeper that it looked. She shook it a little, receiving a rattling sound in response. She laid it face down on the desk, withdrew a bobby pin and a screwdriver from her pocket, and started fiddling with a lock on the back. "What do you want, anyway?"

"What you did to the geezer..."

Her bobby pin snapped. She muttered a curse and turned her head to look him in the eye, tense.

"It was a good move-" her shoulders relaxed a little, "-even if it wasn't your plan."

Julia smiled weakly and withdrew a fresh bobbypin. "Maybe I wasn't planning on doing it, but I've gotta say... I've been _dreaming_ about doing it for months."

"You're a freaky chick, nosebleed."

"Yeah, well, let's stick you out in the wastes for six months and see how normal you are at the end of it."

"We'll see, won't we?"

She stared at him. "Are you stupid?" She distracted herself with the lock for a moment, thinking. "Nobody's free in the wasteland. Not really. It's big, and hot, and most people either want to rob you blind, kill you, sell you as a slave, or some combination of the three. You can go for days without finding drinkable water. It all makes you sick, and thirstier than you were before. And I don't think you even want to know about Super Mutants..."

"Like I said. Anything out there is better than the shit in here."

Her face tightened. "Then you're stupid." After trying to pick the lock again and getting nowhere, she let out a resigned sigh. She picked it up and started back toward the hall, Butch keeping pace.

"You don't have to be such a damn bitch. I can take care of myself."

Julia shoved the frame into her bag, and slung it over her shoulder.

"Look. If you have even an ounce of sense, you'll stay put." She looked at Dogmeat. "You coming, or not?"

He licked Butch's hand once and trotted to her side. Her fingers brushed against the tips of his pointed ears affectionately, and she began walking, her companion following faithfully behind. She turned back briefly, looking at Butch. "I'd say 'see you around', but... goodbye."

"I'll see you out there!"

Julia looked displeased, but turned and continued on her way.


End file.
